Feats, Bonds losing weight

September 25, 2005|BY BOB VERDI.

So what would be the proper manner to celebrate that historic moment when Barry Bonds unleashes his 714th home run to tie the legendary Babe Ruth? Flaxseed oil on the rocks with a twist? Lemon or lime?

Prepare for this day, because it is bound to happen now that Bonds has returned to active duty with the San Francisco Giants, his swing and scowl intact. Baseball's 41-year-old ill-will ambassador entered this weekend with 707 career blasts, the last two of which were launched in Washington, of all places.

Bonds surely was a possibility for the guest list in March when the House Government Reform Committee interrogated several of the game's prominent figures on the issue of performance-enhancing substances. However, Bonds already was involved in the BALCO drug trial on the West Coast, so he was spared a trip to the nation's capital.

When Bonds finally departed the ranks of the disabled earlier this month, he did so at home, before predictably idolatrous crowds. But lo and behold, his first road appearance in more than a year was against the Nationals last week, and he got what he expected--abuse. Not surprisingly, Bonds danced around boos with a home run trot.

If America's most politically charged region was trying to convey that it can recognize shenanigans, Bonds turned on the skeptics by doing what he does best. He turned on a couple of fastballs, then tartly reminded the good-housekeeping lobby he never has tested positive for steroids. Also, Bonds shamed his 24/7 critics by pointing out there are more important current events for America's elected officials to monitor than his plate appearances. He can say that again and, regrettably, no doubt will.

But Bonds cannot legislate against his audience members developing opinions, just as stars of a bad movie cannot manufacture glowing reviews. And that is the unsavory aspect of Bonds' pursuit of the Babe and eventually Hank Aaron's 755. In an environment unsullied by wild home run gyrations and congressional probes, Bonds' quest would be imposing, even if he's not a people person.

Instead, he is tiptoeing through this, which is a shame because Bonds was a fabulous player before the clouds moved in. When he was a lot smaller and a lot younger with the Pittsburgh Pirates, he began building a Hall of Fame resume. If he did what detractors think he did, why he did it is the question. He would have broken records without having to deny he broke rules. But he's not going away.

On the contrary, Bonds is making long-range plans, and not just to provide fodder for his Web site because he actually is talking. "I'm going to be skinny," Bonds declared upon announcing intentions to drop 30 pounds by next season, even as rumors swirl that he and his fragile knee will be shipped to the American League for designated-hitter duties.

If Bonds were contemplating an imminent retirement, it is unlikely he would be worried about where to go on the food pyramid. Nor would he go public because he is, by nature, so private.

Then again, perhaps Bonds recalls the grief Jason Giambi encountered when he showed up thinner without warning us.

That exacerbated existing suspicions about Giambi's habits. Bonds surely can take the heat, but he promises to stay out of the kitchen anyway.

When Barry catches the Babe, it figures to be a quiet party. He deserves better, but so do baseball fans. He can't have his cake and eat it, too, and after he again reinvents his body, barbarians will be at the gate, checking to see if he lost those 30 pounds from his head.